Play Pretend
by Asctera
Summary: They were countries, they were immortal, they couldn't escape reality, not that easily. But sometimes it was nice to just play pretend. Takes place during WWII. FrUK, one-shot.


_Pairing : FrUK._

 _Summary : They were countries, they were immortal, they couldn't escape reality, not that easily. But sometimes it was nice to just play pretend. Takes place during WWII. Basically, me trying to come up with some kind of explanation as to why countries started to use human names for themselves._

 _Disclaimer. Hetalia belongs to its awesome creator Himaruya Hidekaz._

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Going out of the meeting room, France felt exhausted. Exhausted by the war, by the endless fights that kept on going, days after days, years after years. His back was hurting, his head was hurting, his every members were in great pain, so much that he actually wondered if this was what it felt like to be dying. Every time he could feel it, the growing pain in his chest, he was reminded of where he was and in what hell of a time he was living. He was reminded of what he was not anymore: himself. A part of him now belonged to Germany and this is, most probably, what was hurting the most. Physical pain was something, but this would never come close to rivalling with how hard it was to see your own identity taken away from you. Physical pain was something, but mental sorrow was worst. And, despite all of that, despite how he felt like letting go, France had to keep on fighting nonetheless. For his people, for the persons he loved and cared about. If not for them, he would probably be dead already.

Turning around a corner, quiet sobs drew the Frenchman's attention away from his thoughts. He looked right and left, before quietly walking toward the origin of the sound. In the obscurity, a shadow was sitting, head buried in his knees. Here was standing one of those people. " _Angleterre_ , are you crying?"

"Don't call me that, wanker." the younger nation murmured, head still hidden in his knees. "I'm not crying."

 _This guy_ , finding time to argue even in those kind of circumstances. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, France's face soften as he knelt down in front of the other nation. His whole body was shaking because of cries. How long, exactly, had he been sitting there, all alone?

"What's wrong, love?" France asked.

England actually slowly lifted his head at this one, eyes piercing into the others. France felt pained just by looking at the other nation's face: he seemed so weak, so helpless. "All the pain, all the suffering. France, can't you feel it?"

The fact is that he did feel it, every now and then. Every time he would be at war, every time Germany would launch a bomb on him. Every time, every day, he could feel his people suffering, his people dying, knowing he could do nothing to save them. He was too weak himself to even try and help them.

Breaking eyes contact, England shook his head vigorously, burying his head in his arms once more. The tears were not long to resume. "I don't want to be a country anymore. Please, France."

That voice. France felt like breaking into tears just by hearing it. But he did not. And it didn't take a second for France to draw one of England's hand away, tangling their hands tightly together, never letting go. Times weren't easy for England either. It wasn't easy for either of them. The world was in flame and everybody could feel it. "Sh, calm down." he began gently. France couldn't break down. Who would be there to help England standing up if he did? "Everything is alright." he said, caressing the other's knees with his free hand. "Let's just play pretend for a while, okay?" Not without difficulty, England looked up once again, waiting for France to continue. "I'll be Francis, a librarian married to a beautiful man named Arthur."

"Arthur?" England asked between two sobs.

"Yeah." the older nation answered, smiling weakly. His free hand found his way to England's face as he went to wipe a dry tear on the blond's cheek away. He repositioned a lock of the other's hair behind his ear before going back to caressing his knees in a comforting way.

"Like King Arthur?"

France's smile grew larger at that. Not noticeably larger, but larger anyway. "Exactly." he answered before resuming his story-telling. "We are not at war because we live in the Free Zone of France, in the countryside, where there is no pain and no suffering." The Frenchman paused for a minute in his narration to better take a look at the nation sitting in front of him. His tears had stopped and England even looked like he was becoming interested in the story. Great, this was working. "We're not at war, but we can die anytime because we are simply human." England's eyebrows rose again in a sad gesture and, this time, France actually let go of the other's hand to bring both of his own to the blond's cheeks. England slightly backed up, like he was surprised by the gesture. "But that's okay." France continued. His fingers slid up and down, again and again in a so gentle way that it looked like he feared the younger nation would break into pieces if he was not careful enough. "Because we have each other. And death isn't scary when you have someone to love."

England closed his eyes at the other's conclusion. A pained expression covered his face and, soon enough, tears started running down his cheeks once more. The Englishman let himself fall into France's arms as he kept on crying.

"Now, my dear, this wasn't supposed to make you cry." the Frenchman said, patting the back of the other's head.

"I know. I'm sorry." England managed between two hiccups.

Silence felt over as France continued to play with the blond's hair in an attempt to calm him down. Every nation had a different way of dealing with pain, some better than others. And if being able to bring some comfort to his beloved England meant hiding his own pain, his own suffering, keeping it secret, then he was fine with it.

"I love you, Francis."

France tightened his embrace, smiling gently in England's hair at the mention of this name he had just come up with for himself. A small kiss on the forehead before he answered back: "I know. _Je t'aime aussi_ , Arthur."

They were countries, they were immortal, they couldn't escape reality, not that easily. But sometimes it was nice to just play pretend.

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 _And that's it for this one!_

 _I really enjoy writting this short one-shot and I hope you, guys, enjoyed reading it as well! Remember that English is not my native language, so I deeply apologize for the million mistakes I probably made!_

 _~Asctera_


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